


The Geo Metro

by CateBeLate



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M, Fluff, a small something, buck does not like stakeouts tho, i thought it was cute idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateBeLate/pseuds/CateBeLate
Summary: The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow are having a stakeout in a Geo Metro. It's amazing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 17





	The Geo Metro

“I don’t like stakeouts.”

It was unwavering in finality, this particularly unprompted declaration of distaste. There hadn’t been anything spoken for about two hours, though it didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been any huffs of annoyance or frustration. All that could be done was defog the windshield and contemplate the negative tipping point of too many coffees.

“I know.”

The reply came on the wings of a sigh, though it was hardly in defeat. Instead, it was a deft reaction to common complaining, albeit not from this perpetrator. More often than not, the vociferous were often teamed with those less so, making for something of an imbalance of communication.

But of course, this was different.

“But we have to do it.” There was resignation in his voice, convincing himself of the truth of the matter, as well as the fact that things could be worse. James Buchanan Barnes could’ve been sitting beside Clint Barton again and smelling the leftovers of a soggy Subway sandwich permeating in the small confines of the car.

“You always did state the obvious when you were annoyed.” Humor laced into a tone generally as cold as the Soviet tundra from whence it came, but for now, it was enough to warm even the coldest New York night. There was a shift beside him, drawing his attention from the beyond the windshield to the bundled beauty he had the fortune of being tethered to.

Even crammed in a shitty Geo Metro ( where they even found a working one was beyond him ), Natalia Romanova was a study in all things femme fatale. It was painfully distracting and comforting at the same time. He could pride himself in knowing that she was more than aware of her effect on him. That sharp smirk painted in peach had him perking an eyebrow in a silent question.

She’d moved so she was more so facing him than the door they were supposed to be monitoring. Even in the lack of light at whatever ungodly hour it was, the crimson pf her hair still caught his eye more than it should.

After all these years, and he still looked at her like it was the first time. And she knew this.

Reaching over, she tapped his chin, and he suddenly became very aware of how he’d gone slackjawed at the sight of her. Fortunately enough, he was beyond being embarrassed or apologizing for something that would never change. With a boyish grin, James collected himself before glancing out the window with a sip of coffee.

“Have I told you that I appreciate you’re not six feet tall?” As if the randomness of the question wasn’t enough, immediate confusion had him nearly spitting out his coffee before looking back to the famed Slavic Shadow.

“Where are you going with this, ‘Talia?” While height wasn’t necessarily a sore subject, it was something of an annoyance when he still looked like a sidekick standing next to Steve. Okay, it was probably a little more than subtly annoying.

“If you were any taller, you’d look absolutely ridiculous in this car,” she spoke with a bubbling chuckling quick on the heels of her answer. “Could you imagine anyone else unfolding their way out of here?”

With the iced silence between them shattered, a rare sight was being seen: a genuine Nat with an awful sense of humor. It brought a quiet moment before a low, rumbling laugh came from James. The coffee was placed back in the cheap cupholder that was obviously not part of the factory model. There was no way he could pay attention to the mission at hand now, and he suspected she was falling prey to the same weakness.

Or so he hoped.

“You must be as bored as I am if you’re thinking about how small the car is, Nat.” Something unrecognizable darted across her eyes, emeralds muted in the midnight scenery. He’d like to think it was something that generally pertained to the two of them, but hope was often a dangerous thing when he was concerned. To hope was to tempt fate into giving the exact opposite.

Her rebuttal came by way of an exasperated sigh, as if it was supposed to be more than obvious, especially to him.

“Amongst other things, James.” That was misleading, and she’d meant for it to be that way. According to the confusion revisiting his face, Nat assumed she held a momentary victory before taking her prize: slipping over the miniscule center console to find a new seat in his lap, her back to the driver’s side door.

“Nat-”

“Shh.”

“No, Nat- the coffee.”

She hadn’t thought about the coffee that was now soaking through the floor of the car after she’d inadvertently hip checked the loose holder on her way to his personal bubble. Everything stood still as consequences were weighed, but once she turned her gaze from where her feet had once been to the glacial hues of the Winter Soldier, coffee stains seemed frivolous to think about.

“I’ll get you more,” she nearly whispered, an arm snaking around his shoulders while the other traced a warm fingertip along his jawline. “My treat.”

“Mm, I think I can settle for that.” Like he was hypnotized by each angle of her face, the stakeout was the last thing on his mind. For now, it was just him, Natalia - his Natalia - and this tiny car. He couldn’t help but ensnare her with his arms, digits digging into soft fabric as if she would disappear into the shadows if he let go. “Natalia, I don’t think we’re going to be getting much recon done with you in my lap.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“….No. You’re right. It wouldn’t be so bad. Never mind that this is about national security.”

“Guilt trips don’t work on me, Barnes. You’re stating the obvious again.”

“Hold on,” he said as he further closed the distance between them. Rather than capture that perfect pout with his lips, he instead pulled the lever beneath his seat, giving them a foot more of room against the steering wheel. “Better.”

“Is that all?”

“Nope.”

Within two minutes, the windows they’d ardently kept fog-free were now veiled with the results of heated breaths and a particular kind of strenuous activity.

Maybe James could get used to stakeouts.


End file.
